


Scars - Old Habits Die Hard (Drabbles)

by estepheia



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Schmoop, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estepheia/pseuds/estepheia
Summary: Schmoop set in the "I Spy"-verse; all you need to know is that Ethan is blind and owns a pub in London (post-NFA)
Relationships: Ethan Rayne/Spike
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Scars - Old Habits Die Hard (Drabbles)

**Author's Note:**

> for sueworld2003, deborahm and rayne_y_daze  
> set in the "I Spy"-verse; all you need to know is that Ethan is blind and owns a pub in London, and Spike is a little more than a fuck buddy)

**Scars** (set only a few days after "I Spy") 

„Tell me,“ Ethan said, mapping Spike’s eyebrow with sensitive fingertips. “Did you get this scar before you were turned?”

Spike lay still. “First Slayer I killed nicked my brow. Wound never healed. Later found out her sword was enchanted.”

“What about this one?” Ethan picked up Spike’s left hand to trace the thin scar inside his palm.

“Christmas bauble. I was two. Mother said I never let go. Was lucky none of the tendons got cut.”

Ethan rested his hand on Spike’s heart. “And this?”

Spike hesitated.

“Tell me. I want to know everything about you.”

“Her name was Cecily.”

**Old Habits Die Hard**

"Makes you wanna barf." Ethan frowns at the jukebox that’s blaring sugar-coated holiday tunes.

Spike nods, even though Ethan can’t see him. Old habits die hard. “Dru was really into the whole Christmas caboodle, expected prezzies by the cartload. Stress, stress, stress.”

“What if on Boxing day all the roasted turkeys were to tap dance on the tables?”

“Eraserhead style?”

“Bouncier. Lord of the Dance with gravy.”

A feral, gleeful note creeps into Spike’s voice. “Could you really do that?”

“Not anymore,” Ethan lies and sips his ale to hide a wicked grin.

That’s Spike’s Christmas prezzie taken care of.

**Welcome to my Life, Tattoo**

“The last time I got matching tattoos I ended up pouring acid over mine,” Ethan muses, tracing the sore symbol on his wrist with Braille-sensitive fingertips.

“That embarrassing?” Spike absently taps the Marlboro pack until it yields two cigarettes. “What did it say? ‘Eternal Love?’”

“Nothing so trite.” Ethan moves to leave the bed and reaches for his Ray Charles shades.

Belatedly connecting the dots, Spike grabs his wrist. “Rupert had his chance.” He rubs his thumb over the tattoo. “How much longer you gonna cry over water under the bridge?”

The pause lasts a whole minute.

“Nevermore,” Ethan says.


End file.
